Matchbox
by IvyWings
Summary: All along he knew it was likely to happen. But he wanted that for her, didnt he? Didnt he want her to be happy? Even if it meant she was leaving for good? If it meant she would leave him behind? A one-shot. Please R


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Young Wizard Series.**

**It seems most of the fics I do are all happy Nita-Kit stuff. So this time, I decided to do something a little different. **

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With a rough scrape, the match lit, flickering as it hungrily lapped down its thin paper stem. The hand holding it moved, dangling the miniature torch above a small stack of paper squares. Lower and lower it came, closer. The flames reached out towards the stack, but before they could grab hold, a breath extinguished it and the blackened, dead match was dropped to the floor among many other used matches.

The figure kneeling on the floor in the darkened room ran his fingers over the glossy paper squares. He picked up the top one and flipped it over; bringing it up to the thin stream of watery light coming in through the slated windows. The light brushed across the tips of his dark hair. He looked for a long time at the picture, looked at the girl smiling back at him. Her eyes were bright in the photograph, the sunlight shining off her long brown hair. Her cheeks showed rosy through the paper and she was happy. He took a rough breath as more tears dripped down his cheeks.

Then suddenly he flung the picture down onto the pile at his knees. With shaking fingers, he ripped another match from the matchbook beside him. He would do it this time for sure. It took him four tries to light it this time. Again, he brought the match down to the pile of photos, and again he blew it out at the last minute, dropping it into the graveyard of other dead matches.

Why was this so hard!? She was gone. Gone away and he knew she was never coming back. All these photos would cause him was pain. But he was a little afraid of what would happen if he did destroy them. It felt like he would be destroying her too in the process.

All along, he had known it was likely to happen. That she would someday meet someone else. Someone else who would make her happy, make her laugh. And he wanted that for her. Didn't he? Didn't he want her to be happy? Even if it meant she left for good. If it meant she would leave him behind?

He slammed his fist down in frustration. But why couldn't he have been the one to make her happy, to make her laugh? Why not him?! There had been times when he almost confronted her, told her how he really felt, ready pour his heart out to her. Like when she was standing in the sun, haloed in golden light and looking just like an angel. Or when she was alone with him, laughter lighting up her face. When she smiled at him, that special smile of hers. The one that made the world stop, and lit up all the darkness in the Universe. The one that made him believe – made him hope – that everything would be alright. But all that was gone now.

His fingers brushed over the remaining match heads. Only one left now. He tugged in out of the paper book and twirled it in his fingers while he stared at the pictures again. A few were face up, one catching his eye. She had her back towards the camera this time but she wasn't the only one in the picture. There was another boy walking close beside her, a boy with sandy blond hair. In the center of the picture, their hands were clasped.

His fingers started to shake again and the match stopped twirling. With slow deliberateness, he struck it against the rough strip on the outside of the empty matchbox. Flames blossomed up on the first strike. They danced, twirling around and down the match slowly. The boy stared at the flickery light, and the pictures beyond the small flame. He brought the match down, so it grazed the edges of top picture. The small flame threw shadows over her face which was looking up at him. Her smiling face. He could feel the heat from the fire on his fingers, and could feel the first prickles of pain from the scorching heat.

Tears dripped down from above, landing in small droplets on the photographs front.

"Oh Nita." He whispered brokenly. Then the match was blown out.

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I was crying inside the whole time I wrote that, but I _did _want to write something different. Even though I never think they should end up like that, I just wanted to present another view to their future (even as sad and heartbreaking as this one is.) **Please review**, but please don't yell at me if you think this is how it should never happen, because I wholeheartedly agree with you on that. I'm just looking for feedback. Many thanks!


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